


Playing With Death Eaters

by I_was_BOTWP



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Death Eaters, Drabble Collection, Drama, F/M, Humor, Multi, Sarcasm, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 08:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11710329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_was_BOTWP/pseuds/I_was_BOTWP
Summary: A series of prompted drabbles featuring Death Eaters. Each chapter contains different characters and situations, depending on the prompts. Expect the unexpected. Rated explicit for various reasons, although not every chapter will have triggers or need such a high rating.





	1. Too Much Too Soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts from The Death Eater Express: Thorfinn Rowle, The Leaky Cauldron, Halloween, the Levicorpus spell, Fred and/or George Weasley

“This is the worst idea you have ever had.  And that’s saying a lot,” Hermione looked at George and Fred, completely exasperated.  “I can’t believe _this_ is what you came up with for Halloween costumes,” she gestured vaguely at them both, hand moving in a circular motion, taking in their disguises, and the item Fred held in his hand.

“What?  These costumes are bloody brilliant!” Fred said with a cheeky grin, which looked out of place on the face he currently sported.

“Haven’t you ever heard of the saying ‘Too much too soon’?” the petite witch asked the duo.

“No such thing, love,” George told her confidently, the smirk on his face eerily perfect for the person he was imitating.

“Plus, you said you didn’t want to dress up, and now you don’t have to in order to fit in with us,” Fred tried to assure her.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

The cheeky grin remained on Fred’s face when she put her hands on her hips and stared at him with a nearly blank face, waiting for him to crack.  He didn’t.  George did instead, pleading with her to play along.

“Please, Hermione?” George asked.  “Just for when we walk into The Leaky Cauldron and the gang sees us.  We’ll take them off right after.  Although if you want them on again later…” he trailed off suggestively.  She arched an eyebrow at him, but didn’t say no to either the now bit _or_ the later bit.  The twins’ faces broke out in wide grins, although with their transfigured faces, bodies, and attire they were not at all identical this evening.

Hermione knew which twin was which by their little mannerisms, but she had a feeling they wouldn’t be telling anyone else who was whom while out at the bar tonight.  With a good-natured groan of defeat, she held out her wrists to Fred, and he snapped the handcuffs into place.

This was the first Halloween after the end of war, and from up in the twins’ flat above their shop, it was evident that it was going to be a wild night, based upon the noise level in the street below.  The jokesters had barely managed to get their store back open two weeks before the new school term began at a rebuilt Hogwarts.  When September 1st came, they’d breathed a sigh of relief, before going straight back to work to replenish their bare shelves – stripped by the students who came through as they shopped Diagon Alley for school supplies.  With less traffic, the twins could build back up a comfortable amount of stock while still filling owl orders.  It wasn’t until just a week or two ago when they’d achieved a comfortable level of inventory, and deemed it time to start working on inventing again.  The two redheads felt a serious need to let loose tonight.

Hermione had been sorely tempted to take up Minerva’s offer to return to Hogwarts to finish her schooling and sit for her N.E.W.T.s.  Until the two wizards she’d been secretly seeing made her a deal.  Go public with their relationship, move in with them, become a business partner, and the three of them would study for N.E.W.T.s together, outside of school.  Come next June, all three of them would sit the tests together.  Molly’s chagrin over the situation of Hermione _living_ _in sin_ with her sons was quickly overshadowed by her elated reaction upon hearing that the two hooligans would be getting some N.E.W.T.s after all.  Not that it stopped the matronly witch from constantly dropping hints about a wedding.

“I would like to go on official record.  This is an awful idea, and I will be saying ‘told you so’ at least once tonight,” Hermione said with her nose in the air, as she turned to walk down the stairs to head out to the bar.  Actually, there was one good part, but she wouldn’t admit it out loud.  She was totally getting away with going out in a pair of comfy jeans and a jumper.  After all, being someone’s captive didn’t entail dressing up.  “Do you want to place wagers on how many times you get hexed tonight, walking around looking like that?”

“A Galleon that Harry’s first spell fired at us is an _Expelliarmus_ ,” Fred said, as he followed behind her, a skip in his step.

“Two on Ron trying to hit us with a _Levicorpus_ , but missing,” George added, flicking off the lights as he brought up the rear.

Hermione laughed, realizing that it was going to be a very _interesting_ night hanging out with the twins dressed as Antonin Dolohov and Thorfinn Rowle, alongside her as their captive.


	2. A Cursed Treasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts from The Death Eater Express: Antonin Dolohov, A cursed treasure, Alecto or Amycus Carrow, Lumos Solem, Devil’s Snare

“How did you hear about this place, again?” Antonin Dolohov looked askance at his best friend.

“Just trust me,” Thorfinn Rowle smirked back at him.

The men stood outside a non-descript building in Knockturn Alley, Antonin staring at the sign that gave no hint of the type of business inside, wondering if he really wanted to go in.  He lit a cigarette, and took a deep drag, exhaling slowly, looking to stall.  The two wizards were on the outs with their Lord after turning up _Obliviated_ last month.  They’d come to in a Muggle café, and although there was no proof of what had occurred, the situation had Potter’s Mudblood’s signature all over it.

Their master had tortured them within inches of their lives for days, then showed how _magnanimous_ he was by letting them live.  Since then, they had not received a new mission, and each day felt a growing sense of dread that they were permanently at the bottom of the pecking order of Death Eaters, just a step above Fenrir and his pack of werewolves.  The stress needed an outlet, and Thorfinn had come up with this; a night out at a club that catered to _certain proclivities_.

Antonin still regarded the sign – A Cursed Treasure – as he finished his cigarette in silence, with Thorfinn leaning against the brick wall on the side of the building, arms crossed on his wide chest, staring at him as the Russian made up his mind.

“This better be bloody worth it,” Antonin said angrily as he ground out the cigarette below his heel before striding towards the door.

The blonde-haired wizard pushed off the wall to follow, saying, “It will be, mate.”

They opened the door and found a small room with a gorgeous witch sitting at a desk.  Behind her was a second door.  She looked utterly bored, giving herself a manicure, nails being painted a shiny purple.  She looked up and lazily drawled, “Password?”

Thorfinn leaned over and turned on his most charming smile, telling her in a husky voice, “Devil’s Snare.”

The witch rolled her eyes at him and Antonin did nothing to hide his bark of a laugh.  Thorfinn was not used to witches doing anything less than fawning over him.  The woman didn’t say a word as the door behind her slid open.  After Thorfinn passed her by, she gave a wink and lascivious smile to Antonin.  Maybe this night wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Once inside the doorway, the thrum of music featuring heavy bass assaulted their ears and bodies.  As the door slid shut behind them, Thorfinn leaned over and said loudly into Antonin’s ear, “The exit is through the back wall of the loo, can’t get back out the way we came in.  Just put both hands on the tits of the woman in the poster there and the doorway will appear.”  Antonin nodded, not wanting to shout back over the din.  He looked around, taking in the club.

The patrons were mostly male, although there were a few witches spread throughout the room.  There were multiple stages set up with women on display for viewing pleasure.  All of the women working there seemed to be in some state of nakedness, although some wore leather straps, or chains, or other accoutrements that did nothing to hide their most intimate bits.  Antonin was already half hard and he hadn’t even gotten in for a closer look yet.

As he adjusted himself, Thorfinn leaned in again and chuckled in his ear, “Ready to admit I was right?”

The two wizards grabbed double-shots of fire whiskey before they walked around the cavernous room, taking their time to enjoy each offering.  There was a woman on all fours, chest down against the floor, arse tilted up, with a large black magically-conjured cock working its way in and out of her rear entrance.  Her flushed face was the picture of that point between pain and ecstasy.  Another witch, with enormous tits, hung suspended from the ceiling.  There were clamps on her nipples and clitoris.  Every minute or so, her body would go taught and she would writhe in the leather straps holding her up.  Then she would slump, breathing heavily.  After the third time, Antonin deduced there must be some type of extremely strong vibration, similar to Muggle electricity, being sent through the attachments.  Antonin couldn’t quite decide if she was getting sexual pleasure from it or not.  The third display they came upon had a blindfolded woman chained to the floor while another stood above her with a knife.  There were thin rivulets of blood running down the chained witch’s arms and calves.  The blindfold meant the bound witch couldn’t be sure when her captor was teasing her with the cold flat of the blade, not cutting at all, or gently running the sharp edge through the first few layers of her skin.  After each touch of the knife to her skin, whether it broke through or not, the captive was rewarded by the large knife handle entering her quim for a few hard thrusts.  There were probably another half dozen solo displays, catering to people who wanted to watch.

In addition, there were a handful of interactive displays.  One, which did not appeal to Antonin at all, was a witch in the middle of circle drawn upon the floor that appeared to keep out the bodies of the wizards surrounding her, but not their bodily fluids, as evidenced by the amount of semen covering her.  Around her were men wanking off in front of whomever cared to see, aiming onto her when they came.

As Antonin walked toward the next exhibit, he found himself thankful that Thorfinn was still by his side.  He had no desire to witness his friend joining in on the last presentation.  The performance in front of him caught his attention like none of the others had yet.  A female audience member had been invited up to play, or rather be played with; the witch on the dais cast _Lumos Solem_ to pinpoint her choice.  The witch waiting up on the small round stage had leather straps crisscrossing her body, some of which highlighted her perfectly formed breasts, the nipples a beautiful rosy color and hard.  The leather strips also wrapped around her waist, accenting how tiny it was and then moved down, and due to the wonders of magic, worked in a way to pull apart her bare pouty lower lips, leaving her fully on display.  Her pussy glistened, showing how excited she was by her role tonight.  Her hair and the upper part of her face were covered with a hood, permitting only blood-red lips to show, leaving her identity a mystery.

She held a cat-o-nine tails whip in one hand and lightly beat it against her other palm, showing her impatience for her chosen victim to join her on the platform.  The selected woman came up, with a look on her face that could be described as hesitantly lustful.  Antonin’s cock became rock hard when the dominatrix used a quick spell to divest her victim of all her clothes.  The hooded witch stalked around her, assessing her, and then used the whip to caress her.  The naked woman’s eyes glazed over with pleasure and she gave a shiver.  The dominatrix began to use the whip lightly on different areas of her upper body, across her shoulders and breasts.  Her breasts where now a beautiful pink color and the nipples puckered in response to the stimulus.  She moved down to the submissive’s thighs, giving them them attention before moving back up.  When the first lash went across her arse, Antonin’s trousers began to feel painful and he thought he understood the other group of men seeking their release.  And when the whipping moved around to the front and the leather pieces caressed her swollen clit, she came loudly, thanking her mistress.  Antonin wanted to come, too.

He almost had decided to walk to the loo and either wank there, or leave via the hidden exit, in order to apparate back to his flat, when the mystery woman once again cast _Lumos Solem,_ with the unbelievable outcome of the light hitting him.  He needed to make a split-second decision on whether to accept or not.

Reluctantly, he shook his head and mouthed, “No thanks,” to the witch.  He turned away to leave, and he missed her lowering her hood to stare at his back with displeasure.  Alecto Carrow shot a murderous look at the retreating figure of the man she was obsessed with, furious that she had been so close to getting her deepest desire.  Thorfinn didn’t miss it, though.  He threw his head back, the roar of his laughter lost in the noise around him.  He couldn’t wait to get outside and tell Antonin about the curse he’d narrowly dodged.


	3. How Sirius Escaped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts from The Death Eater Express: Regulus Black, a broken wand, a Marauder, Muffliato, Snape

“Snape.  Severus Snape.  Are you home?  Please be home.  Oh fuck.  I really need you to be home,” a desperate voice yelled out of the floo in Severus’ parents’ home.  Severus thought it sounded like Regulus, but the pitch seemed higher than usual.

Severus came striding into the parlor; his father forbade him to wear robes at home during breaks from school, but it didn’t change the way the lank-haired wizard walked.  Severus found Regulus’ face amid the flames from where he’d been shouting.

“I need your help, Severus.  I need you to promise that you will _try_ to help me.  And I need you to promise that you won’t tell anyone _anything_ about this, er, situation,” Regulus may be clearly distraught, but he was still a Slytherin, choosing his words carefully, getting ready to cover his arse.

“What are you asking me to walk into?” Severus questioned.

“I need you to promise me first.”

“What do I get?” Severus wasn’t stupid.  He also wasn’t expecting to hear the answer Regulus chose.

“Anything.  I will grant you one open-ended future request.”

Severus thought for a moment.  What would he find on the other side of that fire, assuming Regulus was at his home?  This was Severus’ best friend.  His brother in all but blood.  He suspected Regulus didn’t feel quite the same about him.  The younger Black still felt some sort of kinship with the _other_ Black, although Regulus would be loath to admit his older brother sill meant something to him.  Severus had been looking for a way to cement _their_ brotherhood - a way to finally, fully, supplant Sirius.

Regulus felt whatever Severus maybe walking into to be nearly worth an Unbreakable Vow, a life debt, a magical bond between the two men.  It better not involve Lily.

“I, Severus Snape, vow to try my utmost to assist Regulus Black with his current situation, promising to never reveal the circumstances to anyone, in return for a future request.”

“So mote it be,” Regulus intoned in acceptance.

“Where are you?  I’ll come through,” Severus felt anxious to see exactly what his gamble entailed.

“Grimmauld,” the younger boy answered before his head disappeared.

As Severus stepped out of the flames into the parlor, he found a jittery Regulus pacing across the rug.  Before Severus could think to say a word, Regulus cast a _Muffliato_.  The green floo flames had covered up the puffy red-rimmed eyes and tear tracks now apparent on Regulus’ face.  Severus opened his mouth, but the other boy cut him off before he could speak.

“My parents are gone, I don’t know for how long, this needs to be fast.  I have ordered Kreacher to stay in the basement, but I don’t want him to be able to overhear us.  I also don’t want my brother to be able to recognize your voice,” Regulus said as he walked up to Severus and cast a second spell, disillusioning him.  “I can’t take a chance on him seeing you either.”

“Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” Severus hissed.

“Follow me,” was all the answer he received.

The two boys proceeded down the hall to the drawing room.  The first thing Severus noted upon entering was the smell.  The retched smell of sick.  Then he saw the body.

Lying on the floor, in a pool of more than one type of bodily fluid, was Sirius Black.  Oh hell no.  Either Regulus had called him here to dispose of a dead body.  Or, the older Black boy wasn’t quite dead yet, and Regulus had called him here for something far worse.

Severus stood rooted in the doorway, as Regulus rushed forward, uncaring of the mess as he fell to his knees next to his brother, a fresh sob escaping his lips.  He put his face close to Sirius, looking for signs of life.  Palpable relief showed on his face as he found something to reassure him.

“You have to help heal him enough to survive a trip through the floo.  I’m going to send him to the Potters.  I need it to look like he got there on his own – saving him can’t be traced back to me,” Regulus’ voice sounded raw as turned towards the spot where he assumed Severus still remained.

Severus wanted to say no.  Sirius Black did not deserve to be saved.  As he thought this, he felt the pull of the vow he’d made just minutes prior.  Damn it.  He walked slowly towards his best friend instead of exiting the room.

He couldn’t help the gag as he got a better view of exactly what Sirius laid in.  It was difficult to tell if the majority of the fluid around his head was stomach acid or blood, as both were definitely present.

Sirius’ head was turned to the side, leaving one cheek lying in the mess below it, with a line of pink tinted foam running down out of his mouth into the liquid soaked into the carpet.

Now that Severus moved closer, he could see the faint rise of Sirius’ chest to indicate he still breathed, but he could also hear the rattle that accompanied it.  The Gryffindor’s lungs were definitely filling with fluid of some sort.

He also noted the way one shoulder and arm were twisted unnaturally as his eyes traveled down the body before him.  Sirius’ shirt was pulled up, and his stomach already showed signs of bruising; Severus would warrant a guess it resulted from being kicked there repeatedly.

He gagged again, almost being sick himself when his eyes made their way down to the evidence that Sirius had released his bowels at some point during the torture.

Because Severus couldn’t deny that this nearly dead boy had been tortured extensively.  There was no reason to inquire as to who carried the blame.  Regulus managed to keep his inherent soft nature well-hidden, but it still caused Severus to worry during the school term.  It was one of the reasons why the older Slytherin knew Regulus needed him.

The body lying there suddenly underwent a series of small twitches, really only notable in the fingers and one ankle.  Nerve aftershocks from the _Cruciatus_. The ankle that remained still was likely shattered too badly to move.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do,” Severus said angrily, causing the other Slytherin to start.  Severus had momentarily forgotten he was invisible.

Regulus turned towards where the voice only he could hear came from and replied, “Any potions you have at home that would help or any healing spells that you know at all.  I can’t take a chance on using any potions from here in my house or doing any spells myself.  My parents will check to see what is missing from the cabinets and cast _Priori Incantatem_ on my wand when they discover him gone.”

“Why not use your brother’s wand?” Severus asked.

Regulus pointed to the snapped wand lying a little ways away on the floor.  The pieces sat below where Sirius’ picture used to be on the family tapestry.  Severus noted the fresh black burn mark which stood next to Regulus’ picture on the wall.

“You do realize my future favor isn’t going to be anything small,” Severus sighed in resignation as he formulated a plan regarding what he would to need to do.


	4. Luna is Confused

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts from The Death Eater Express: Draco Malfoy, Amortentia, Gringotts, Bellatrix, A Muggle, Crucio

“Stop staring at the Muggles like they’re animals in a zoo,” Hermione hissed to Ginny and Luna as they walked up to the counter with their basket.

“Animals in a what?” Luna asked in her lilting voice that carried into every corner of the small shop.  Of course, she had to add, “What’s a zoo?”

Hermione turned to Ginny with a pleading look as she plopped their purchases in front of the cashier.

Ginny didn’t know what a zoo was either, but figured they could find out later, in the privacy of Hermione’s flat.  “Come on Luna, let’s go back next door to see if the take-out is ready,” the redhead said, grabbing her friend’s hand to tug her towards the door.

“Only if I can be the one to hand the paper to the Muggle in exchange for the food.  That’s my favorite part!” the blonde said as she skipped ahead, now pulling Ginny behind her.

Hermione sighed as she turned back to face the man working in the liquor store.  He wasn’t giving her the concerned look she’d come to expect when venturing out into Muggle London with Luna.  Good to know drunks still out-crazied Luna.

“Anything else?” the man asked her in a bored voice before she handed over the money.

“No, thanks.”

“Cheers,” he offered half-heartedly as she took her sack.

She walked out onto the street to find Luna and Ginny exiting the Chinese take-out out place at the same time, bags full of their dinner in hand.

“But she didn’t explain _how_ they can print the fortunes ahead of time and make sure they get to the correct people,” Luna was complaining to Ginny.

“I love Muggle alcohol.  Muggle alcohol is lovely.  Luna, you’re lovely.”  The more pissed Ginny got, the happier she got.  “I love you, Luna!” Ginny declared, throwing her arm over Luna’s shoulder.

The three women were all seated on Hermione’s leather sofa in her little London flat.

“This is a posh sofa, Hermione.  Where did your old one go?” Ginny asked.

“Oh.  Well.  It seemed time for an upgrade.” Hermione replied as she leaned forward to grab her glass from the coffee table.

The eggrolls, dumplings, and most of the other food was long gone.  Their opened fortunes sat before them, surrounded by cookie crumbs.

“See, there is no way Divination can ever be accurate with a delivery method involving pre-printed tickets inserted in take-out ethnic food,” Luna said, gesturing towards the slips open on the table.

“Ginny’s makes absolutely no sense.  And they mixed up mine and yours” Luna continued, looking at Hermione.

Ginny received _Accept what you can not change._

Hermione’s read _A grand adventure is before you._

Luna had _You will find new love._

“Did Slughorn have you do Amortentia in your 6th year?” Ginny asked Hermione, following some tangent inside her head to get from the possibility of Muggles using cheap Chinese cookies to deliver harbingers of the future to rehashing their Hogwarts years.

Hermione rolled her eyes at that memory.

“Of course he did,” she huffed, clearly still not over Harry _cheating_ with Snape’s book.

“What did it smell like for you?  It smelled like wool, fresh baked biscuits, crisp fall air, and Harry for me,” Ginny said without a hint of embarrassment.

“Oh,” Luna interjected before Hermione could answer, “it smelled like ink, a forest, butterbeer, and Moon Frogs to me.”  Luna smiled radiantly as she recalled the smells she found attractive.

Hermione hesitantly admitted hers to her two girlfriends.

“What do you think Ron’s smelled like?” Luna asked curiously.

“Chicken!” Hermione and Ginny said simultaneously before dissolving into giggles.

“Or how about Neville’s?” Ginny wondered.

“Has to be something like dirt or loam or dragon-shite manure,” Hermione guessed.

“Draco Malfoy!” Ginny yelled out louder than any sober person would have.

“What?”  Hermione’s head whipped around to look at the floo behind the sofa, wondering if the ferret was suddenly standing in her living room.

“No, you ninny.  I mean, what do you think Draco Malfoy’s smelled like?” Ginny clarified, laughing at Hermione’s expense.  Really, why would her friend suspect Malfoy was in her flat?  Hermione blushed.

“Ummm…  Galleons?” Luna guessed.

“Oh Merlin!  Can you imagine Malfoy walking into Gringotts?  He probably gets a stiffy just from smelling all the money.”  Ginny barely managed to get that statement out around laughing at the mental image that accompanied it.

Luna joined in with an atrocious imitation of Draco’s drawl, “Oh, you need me to remove my wand from my pocket for identification?”

Ginny was now laughing so hard she was crying.

Ginny took a big gulp of air and stuttered in an even sadder imitation of Draco, “I’ll just require a few minutes alone in my vault.  My father will hear about it if you interrupt my alone time with my gold,” before she dissolved back into hysterics.

Luna howled in response, holding her sides in near pain, before she gave up and just toppled over into Ginny’s lap.

Hermione was biting her bottom lip, staring at the two.

“Let’s play a new game,” the curly-haired witch suggested.  “It’s called fuck, marry, kill.  I’ll say three names and you pick a category for them.  Remus, Sirius, Severus.”

“Easy.  Fuck, Marry, Kill.”  Ginny answered quickly, clarifying with, “Wouldn’t mind finding out what a werewolf is really like between the sheets.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”  Luna followed up Ginny’s answer, as she sat straight once more.

“Luna, you can’t reuse a category,” Hermione explained.

Luna took a big gulp of her drink, nodded, and said, “Let’s try again.”

“Neville, Dean, Seamus.”

“Marry.  Marry.  Marry.” Luna promptly said.  “There, I hadn’t used marry yet, so that works.  And I assume that since this is a made-up game, I can marry more than one wizard.”

Ginny snorted.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“How about you, Hermione?” asked Ginny.

“Right.  On Remus, Sirius, Severus, I would say marry, fuck, kill.”

“You are such a swot, wanting to marry the professor,” Ginny interjected.

“There is nothing wrong with appreciating an intelligent man,” Hermione said airily, turning her nose up a bit.  “And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to shag Sirius Black, either,” she finished with a sly grin.

“And the next three?  I’d say fuck, marry, kill.  I don’t think I could deal with a pyromaniac on any level,” Hermione added.

“Can I submit: been there, done that, and no thanks, for those three?” Ginny asked.

“Ok, I get it now!” Luna enthusiastically proclaimed.  “Pick another one!”

“Bellatrix LeStrange, Rodolphus LeStrange, Rabastan LeStrange,” Ginny said.

“ _Crucio, crucio, crucio_ ,” Luna replied.


	5. House Elves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts from The Death Eater Express: Bellatrix LeStrange, Azkaban, Imperio, Alice Longbottom, A cat, Rodolphus LeStrange

Hermione stood at the gates to Azkaban, watching as the guard there scanned first her credentials, and then, her with his wand.  He handed back the paperwork she’d presented him and opened the gate with the bare minimum of words required.  Even without Dementors, the structure was forbidding.  She couldn’t help the small involuntary shudder as she stalked across the barren grounds and up the few grey stone steps to the front door.

This time, the scan was a bit more in-depth, and she was required by the guard working the front desk to drink a Polyjuice-reversal potion.

The potion was one of the last defensive items Fred and George began working on together before the war ended.  George had perfected the recipe on his own.  She could only imagine the Galleons he pulled in by copyrighting the formula.

Hermione worked for the Ministry in the Magical Creatures division for a year before she learned that house-elves of witches and wizards sentenced to life in Azkaban were not released from their servitude immediately.  Some found themselves lucky to be passed on to other family members, successfully forging a bond with them.

The ones she worried about were the elves left with shattered pieces of a bond, tied to a master they would never be able to properly serve again.  Unable to move on when a criminal thought nothing of refusing to free their slave.  Slowly going mad.

She’d discovered Rodolphus LeStrange still owned a house elf; the poor creature resided alone in the LeStrange Manor.  There were distant LeStrange cousins in France - they were keeping the manor in the family for now, but needed to hire expert curse breakers before they could spend time there.

Meanwhile, the elf was stuck in the house, as the cousins’ bloodline was too different from their British family’s to transfer a familial bond.

And this wasn’t even the first time it had happened to this particular elf.  When Bellatrix and Rodolphus were thrown in Azkaban in 1981 after their torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom, their house elf spent the next 14 years alone.  Hermione suspected Rabastan would have been able to take on the bond, if he hadn’t been in prison with them the first time around and dead this time.

She’d gone home the day of her discovery and cried in Ron’s arms.  A damned house cat would be rescued and put up for adoption within 48 hour; the holding period deemed enough time to make sure it wasn’t an unregistered Animagus, a transfigured person, or any other number of things.

Now, after months of research and testing, Hermione stood ready to cast a charm on Rodolphus that would negate the bond.  The elf needn’t be there, and no one would have to present it with clothes.  If Hermione’s calculations were correct, the resulting freedom would not hurt the elf at all.  The elf could choose to form a new bond with a new wizard, if it wanted.

And if her charm didn’t work, she could always return another day with the elf in tow, a nicely knit hat, and Harry.  Harry owed her a favor, and he was fairly adept at using an _Imperio_.


	6. Bachelors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts from The Death Eater Express: Severus Snape, a marauder, Nagini, Harry and/or Ron, Sectumsempra, an exploding cauldron

Everyone assumed Harry and Ron were living up the bachelor life.  Training hard at the Auror academy during the day, then going out at night to pubs, clubs, or wherever young famous blokes supposedly went.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  With Hermione and Ginny back at Hogwarts, the two wizards were floundering.

They’d moved into Grimmauld Place the weekend after the girls boarded the Hogwarts Express.  It seemed like the right move at the time.  Harry claimed Sirius’ old room as his own, still wanting to have some small connection to the man.  Ron took a guest room on the same floor.  Not Regulus’ old room; they couldn’t fathom how a move like that would affect Kreacher.

After the first night, they realized that sleeping in separate rooms while all alone in the too-quiet house was not going to work out so well.  Especially when the nightmares came.  And come they did, just as they had been for months.  Some dreams were nothing more than a reliving of the past, while others warped events to turn out much worse than real life.

Ron’s nightmares centered around explosions.  The wall which had exploded and killed Fred.  A tank full of brains, with water exploding upwards as multiple creatures launched towards him, tentacles wrapping around him.  Even a dream that started out ordinary – Hermione and Ginny back at school, paired up in Potions class – until their cauldron exploded and killed them both.

Harry’s dreams frequently included Nagini.  There was his own narrow escape from the snake on Christmas - occasionally the snake managed to get him, more often it turned on Hermione and killed her in front of him.  He relived Severus Snape’s death more times than he cared to admit.  He watched with disgust as Nagini devoured Professor Burbage.

The worst for Harry, though, was witnessing Neville’s thwarted attempt to behead the beast with the sword, and seeing an ensuing barrage of spells ricochet off Nagini, as wizards and witches all around cast at the snake as it slithered across Neville’s broken form.  In this particular nightmare, the spells bounced back to hit the people who threw them.  Ginny going down to her own _Reducto_ , Luna to a well-cast _Diffindo_ , and Ron to the obscure _Sectumsempra_.

On the second night, Ron appeared in Harry’s doorway about half past two.  On the third night, Harry crawled into Ron’s bed around midnight.  On the fourth night, they agreed the master suite contained the largest bed and perhaps they would be best off in there together going forward.

After little more than a week, each night tended to fall into the same pattern.  Come home exhausted (whether from training, or a self-imposed exercise regime), shower and put on pajamas even if it was still light outside, eat whatever Kreacher prepared for them, drink a smidgeon more alcohol than they knew to be healthy, and silently trudge to bed.  Together.

No, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were certainly not living the glamorous life so many witches and wizards assumed they were.


	7. The Tell Tale Clock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts from The Death Eater Express: Alecto Carrow, Voldemort, a wayward familiar, Rictusempra, Bellatrix LeStrange, a broken clock

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Tick tock went the goddam clock.

A never-ending grating noise.

A scratching on her brain. 

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Tick _fucking_ tock.

She stood rigidly off to the side in Narcissa’s ruined drawing room _,_ facing the wall, in a bloody _time out_ , unable to see what was happening around her, trying to ignore the only sound she could hear.  Trying to will the clock to break.  Her wandless non-verbal magic wasn’t strong enough.

Not after the torture she’d undergone the past few hours.

At least, she thought hours had passed.  Maybe only minutes had gone by since Voldemort appeared following the disappearance of their captives?

Bellatrix shut her eyes, focused on listening for evidence proving anyone else was even present in the too quiet room.  Anyone besides _Him_.  She was sure _He_ still sat behind her.  She didn’t dare to fidget, _He_ would notice if she did.  But, by the gods, she would welcome the rustle of fabric.  Just if it came from someone else, not her. After finishing with her, Voldemort bade her to stand aside and not move until told.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Bellatrix’s eyes popped open when she felt a bead of sweat formed in her cleavage move down her sternum.

Drip drop.

Mustn’t show she is nervous.

Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock.

Her breathing was getting shallower.  Her eyes moved side to side, desperate to take in any movement in her peripheral vision as she licked her dry lips.

Drip drop.

_No_ , she willed her body to stop producing evidence of her distress.

She imagined her Lord sitting behind her, still twirling _His_ current wand as _He_ regarded her backside.  Her wand was gone.  The little Mudblood bitch had taken it.  Yet, she knew that if it hadn’t been stolen, there was a chance it would have been snapped in punishment.

Tick tock.

Drip drop.

What more could he do to her at this point?

Tick.

The tension was broken by a cat skittering in.  Lucius’ Turkish Angora.  The wayward familiar moved along the edge of the room, slowly coming towards her.  Taunting her. Oh, its owner was surely having a field day with her dressing down and his damn feline knew it.

The cat sat on its haunches and began to bath itself, nonplussed by the blood and devastation around it. She watched it without turning her head, thankful for the small distraction.

And then time suddenly sped up.  Lucius walked in, leading Alecto Carrow behind him.

The other witch reported the escapees were not at Hogwarts. The cat perked up from its grooming when his wizard made a little _psst_ sound, flouncing past her feet to follow Lucius back out of the room. Alecto stayed behind, speaking a few more words to their master before she was dismissed.

Still Bellatrix was ignored.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

And another drip drop.

Bellatrix stared straight ahead at the textured wallpaper in front of her. How long could he keep her here?

Tick.

Her body began to shake.

Tock.

She’d held the tremors in as long as she could.

Tick.

She would be punished again if she couldn’t stay standing.

Tock.

Now sweat was beading at her hairline.

Drip.

A rivulet ran down her temple as she locked her knees, hoping to stay upright, hoping to not pass out.

Drop.

Sweat was collecting at the end of her nose and she longed to brush it off.

Drip drop.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

She now started to mouth the words ‘tick tock’ in time with the clock.  Her face was hidden, turned away; _He_ couldn’t see it.  Anything to distract her for just another minute, to help her forget and stay upright.

Tick _stay standing._

Tock _don’t fall._

She concentrated on the feeling of her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she repetitively formed each word while her body swayed.

TICK.

TOCK.

She swore the clock was growing louder, causing vibrations in the room.

TICK.

TOCK.

TICK.

TOCK.

She’d given up worrying about the drip drop of her perspiration.

She wanted nothing more than to cover her ears, drown out the clock, and crumple to the floor.

TICK TOCK.

“Turn around, Bella.”

Voldemort pointed his wand at her.  She braced herself for the curse that she knew would send her to her knees.

His laughter echoed as he cast a _Rictusempra_ , rather than the expected _Cruciatus_. To her damaged nerves, it made no difference; pain shot through her just the same as she fell.

His shoes tapped on the floor in time with the clock as he walked past her wrecked form, ignoring her completely, on his way to the door.

Click clack.

Tick tock.

Click tick.

Clack tock.

Click tick.

Clack tock.

Until she could hear him no more.  Then it was just…

Tick tock.


	8. Downfall of Tom Riddle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts from The Slytherin Cabal: Regulus Arcturus Black, Salazar Slytherin’s Locket, “I’m afraid I’m running out of time.”

Regulus knew people underestimated him.  He was the obedient child, always doing as his parents asked. It played into his plans perfectly.

 

After he’d discovered exactly what a Horcrux was, he’d determined the need to destroy the piece of Voldemort’s soul housed inside Salazar Slytherin’s Locket.  When researching Horcruxes in his family library, he located all of the information he needed.

 

While delving deeper into the Dark Arts than ever before, Regulus found himself a changed man.

 

“I’m afraid I’m running out of time,” he’d told Kreacher before leaving for the cave with the elf.

 

How wrong he’d been.

 

Two years after Regulus mysteriously disappeared, a toddler finally destroyed Voldemort.

 

Two years turned out to be plenty of time for Regulus to secretly find and destroy every single Horcrux his former master had created.  When the  _ Avada Kedavra _ backfired on Harry Potter, it had hit a mortal Tom Riddle.

 

Which left the world wide open for a new Dark Lord to rise.  Regulus Arcturus Black.


End file.
